


Upending Fate (Very Carefully)

by Topaz_Feather



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse Fix-it, Gabriel (Supernatural) is Loki, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychic Sam Winchester, The Archangels are Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topaz_Feather/pseuds/Topaz_Feather
Summary: Chuck and Amara weren't the only ones in the beginning, and Chuck was not the only one to create archangels. That information wouldn't be important, except that one of those other archangels is still alive by the time the apocalypse rolls around, and she is understandably less than thrilled by the idea.Aquilarah usually keeps to herself. She'd made a life as Hecate, the Greek goddess of magic, and only barely kept in touch with the others of her kind. She had sat back and stayed out of things during the war in Heaven, had done nothing more than observed as Michael and Raphael pulled back from the host, and had said nothing to anyone of Gabriel's presence in the pagan world. She did her best to be at least a somewhat neutral party between Heaven and Hell; Michael and Lucifer.But the apocalypse? No, that was the last straw. It was time for this ridiculous quarrel between her cousins to end, even if she has to tear Chuck's manuscript apart herself. (Though she'll save that as a last resort).
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Upending Fate (Very Carefully)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So a couple quick notes before the chapter: 
> 
> Firstly, this is my first work on Archive, and feedback will always be appreciated. I hope to hear from you!
> 
> Second, I'm absolutely certain that some of the characters in this story will seem a little bit OOC. I've decided to embrace it, because I want the story to unfold in a certain way, at a speed that definitely would not happen if I let the Winchesters (in particular) be any closer to their canon characters. I do hope you will enjoy the story anyway!
> 
> Without any further ado... On to the story!

I sipped delicately from a glass of whiskey and watched the Winchesters and Harvelles and as they discussed the Yellow-Eyed Demon. I carefully watched for a moment to jump in.

In the end, I decided to just let them realize I hadn’t left with all the other patrons. 

To their credit, they caught on quickly. Of course, that meant they pulled their guns. I rolled my eyes and took another sip of my whiskey. I had purchased it earlier when the bar was open, and it hadn’t run out since.

“What the hell are you?” Ellen growled.

She’d been nicer when she’d served my drink. Still, it was understandable that she’d be distrustful now. 

“Hecate,” I said simply. 

There was cursing from the hunters. Sam seemed to be the most willing to entertain a conversation with me. At least, that’s what I gathered when he started talking.

“Like the Greek Goddess?”

I smirked into my drink. 

“No ‘like’ about it, sweetheart,” I said. Then, I turned to face the group. “Now, unless you want to waste bullets, I suggest you put the guns away. I’m only here to talk.”

No one lowered their guns. Instead, Dean glared at me. 

“Yeah, right.”

I humored him with a patient, if teasing, grin. “Alright, and what exactly do you think I’m here for, then?”

“To- kill us?” he said uncertainly.

I watched him, bemused. Honestly, hunters and their paranoia. “I’ve had dozens of opportunities to do that over the last hour. Why would I wait?”

“Well, I don’t know!” he exclaimed defensively. “Maybe you have a sense of poetry or something. How am I supposed to know why a goddess would do something?”

I took another sip of my whiskey, and then eyed him consideringly as I put it down and circled my finger around the rim. “Well,” I said, “You’re right about one thing. You aren’t going to understand why I do a lot of things. But let’s get one thing straight right now, if only so that you don’t second guess every single thing I say tonight.”

I locked him into my gaze, making sure that he couldn’t look away and that my power simmered just under the surface of my body. 

The hunters all tensed and regripped their guns. None of them took their eyes off me. 

I spoke quietly enough that they didn’t try to speak over me. The quiet spoke of confidence and danger, and I knew it would drive the point home better than getting in anyone’s face would. 

“If I wanted to kill you, any or all of you, I could scatter your atoms across the universe and smother your soul until there is absolutely nothing left of who you once were. And all it would take...” 

I raised a hand dramatically and snapped my fingers. The hunters all flinched at the sound. 

I continued speaking as if I hadn’t noticed, saying, “... is a snap.”

Then, I broke my inhuman stillness to turn back to grab my glass. At the same time, all of my power hid itself from mortal senses so abruptly Dean stumbled a bit. The others all blinked several times and readjusted warily. 

I plowed on before anyone got it in their heads to interrupt. “Luckily for you,” I said with genuine amusement, “I have no intention of killing you.” 

Sam lowered his gun slowly, though he didn’t put it away, or look particularly happy. I swirled my glass thoughtfully as I took in the protective gesture Dean made when he realized what Sam was doing. The other three humans were shooting glances at the brothers while keeping guns trained on me, but Tall and Taller were lost in a silent conversation.

I was patient, though, and it helped that they reminded me of Michael and Lucifer a good deal at the moment. The moment of quiet gave me time to make sure I was fully in control of my emotions.

Finally, Dean gave in. I saw his shoulders shift. He didn’t relax or tense up any further, but he held them differently. Then he lowered his own gun. The others followed suit. No safeties were off, but the immediate ‘threat’ was gone.

Sam picked up the conversation. “So what did you come to talk about?”

“You, for a start,” I began, looking straight at Sam for a moment, “and the Yellow-Eyed Demon, and… a prophecy, that I really don’t want to see come to pass.”

I mostly ignored the unease that my words caused, but I did notice how Dean shifted warily, glancing back at Sam. Sam, for his part, was looking intrigued. He had found a source of information and he was going to take advantage of it. “You know about Yellow Eyes?”

I snorted. 

“Of course I do. His name is Azazel, by the way. He is one of the four princes of hell, and as the only one remaining in hell, also the current regent.” I saw Dean go to interrupt me, but I kept talking in a slightly more pointed tone. “Which means, that he has every demon in hell at his beck and call.”

Dean looked sick. “And he has it out for us.”

I looked at him with an expression that, I hope, asked him if he was really that stupid. I shook my head, exasperated. “Let me repeat myself. He has the entirety of hell at his command. If you aren’t dead by now, then he doesn’t want you dead. No. He wants something from you, and- by you, I do mean Sam.”

The man in question gulped even as Dean swallowed a vehement curse. Suddenly Sam didn't look quite so eager to pick my brain for information. He pushed forward anyway, though.

“Do you know what he did to me?” Sam asked hesitantly. It seemed as though he couldn’t decide if he actually wanted to know.

I watched that war impassively for a moment before I answered. I kept my voice calm, but I knew that this was not going to be an easy thing to swallow. I did sympathize with him.

“Azazel fed you his blood that night. Just a few drops.”

Sam looked sick, and Dean blew his top. 

“He did what?!” Dean shouted. Then he ran a hand through his hair with a desperate look on his face. “Ok, ok, what does that mean, what’ll it do to Sam?”

All of the hunters watched me expectantly as I finished another sip of whiskey and looked back at them. I took a breath. “Believe it or not, nothing too bad. It will ensure that Sam grows into some psychic powers, but I think you already knew that.”

There was a bit of chaos, then, between Dean yelling at me for answers and Sam abruptly sitting down looking ill, but Ellen seemed to be getting tired of all of it. She crossed her arms.

“Not that this isn’t important, but what’s this about a prophecy?”

I hummed with a smile, gazing into my drink. “There isn't much I can tell you, yet, but essentially,” I pointed at the Winchester brothers, “you two are at the center of a great big prophecy that I would like to derail. You’ll want that too, because at the end, one of you dies.” 

I paused briefly for that to sink in, then went on. “Prophecies are finicky things. Most are either self-fulfilling or inevitable. Luckily for us, this one is not inevitable, but that means I’m going to be enigmatic and appear rather less helpful than you would like.” I shrugged. “Sorry.”

“So what,” Dean asked snidely, “You’re going to admit to manipulating us.”

“Our end goals line up, Winchester. They aren’t exactly the same, but they’re close enough. You can call it manipulation if you want. Personally, I’d call it divine intervention, but I suppose those two always have been too close to being synonyms. All I can tell you is that in the end, I’m on your side.”

Jo spoke up for the first time, then, “Anything else you want to tell us, Ms. Divine Intervention?”

I ignored the intended jab and nodded. “A few things, yes. Firstly,” I turned my gaze to Sam, flaring my power in a much less threatening version of what I’d done to Dean earlier. I just wanted to make sure he was listening this time. 

“Sam, your powers.” Sam looked a little unsettled at having my full attention focused on him, but I paid that no mind. “They aren’t demonic. They aren’t even technically unnatural. Trust me, I’m the goddess of magic. The demon blood was a-” I broke off, frowning, searching for a good word, “-a catalyst. The powers themselves are your own. At most, the demon blood means that Azazel can control how much of your power manifests at a given time.”

If it were possible, my gaze intensified. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Slowly, he nodded. He was dealing with the aftermath of being very afraid about what he had in his system, but I think he will be fine soon enough. He would just need some time to adjust, and possibly some proof that he isn't evil. That won't be too hard to arrange.

I could think about that a bit later. For now, I flicked my gaze to his brother and asked him the same question. “Do you?”

Dean gulped and nodded, looking like a huge weight was lifted off of his shoulders. “Yeah,” he said, his voice scratchy with emotion. I'm willing to bet he was grateful for the excuse to ignore his father's last words.

I nodded firmly. “Good.” My voice abruptly changed to a bright, curious tone while I continued. “Secondly, have you two met the trickster yet?” By now, my rapid switches between serious and light-hearted seemed to be giving them whiplash. And this was me, Loki was so much worse.

Sam frowned. “What’s a trickster?” he asked.

Ellen grimaced. “They’re pagan demi-gods. I ran into one once. Tough son-of-a-bitch. I had to fight nearly a dozen conjured minions before I managed to stake him.”

I watched them all consideringly. I think this is a secret I’ll have to tell. Otherwise, there will be questions about how to find the right trickster. Loki might just kill me a little, but that's something I can live with. I think.

“I have to tell you all something, and I need you all to swear that you will tell no one else.”

They gave each other looks of confusion, but at this point seemed to have decided to take all the information they could get. They each swore themselves to secrecy.

My eyes glowed faintly with the power of a vow. “I’ll hold you all to that,” I warned. 

They all gave hasty nods. I nodded firmly and took another sip of whiskey. “Alright. I’m about to tell you one of the biggest and best kept secrets of the pagan world, so listen up.”

That caught their interest. They all straightened up and watched me with rapt attention while I spoke. There’s nothing like being entrusted with a deep secret to make someone feel special.

“There has only ever been one trickster.”

Sam frowned. “Like per pantheon?”

I was already shaking my head halfway through his question. “One.”

Jo protested this time. “One at a time?”

“One,” I repeated. “Think, hunters. I’ve said exactly what I meant.”

“But I killed a trickster,” Ellen said. “And I knew how to kill him because other hunters have killed other tricksters.”

I sighed. I really prefer it when humans can figure things out on their own, but I guess I have to spell it out for them this time. “He’s the Trickster. Do you honestly think he couldn't or wouldn’t spread false information about how he can be killed? No. You didn’t kill him any more than any of the hunters in the past. He let you think you killed him; let you go home victorious while he snapped off to another place.”

Ellen looked slightly pale. “Why would he do that? I was trying to... Even if he knew I didn’t have the right weapon…”

I smiled at her comfortingly. “That’s the thing with the Trickster. He doesn’t kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it, and you’re a good woman, Ellen Harvelle. I wouldn’t be surprised if he just flat out liked you, too. I know I do.”

The casual admission seemed to raise a few eyebrows and knock everyone a little bit off balance. I just took another sip of whiskey.

After giving them a few seconds, I continued. “But back to the point. When you meet the Trickster - and you will meet the Trickster, I guarantee it - I want you to give him a message from me. I want you to tell him that I’m in the game. He’ll know what I mean. And I want you to tell him that I’m on your side… and his.”

Dean looked doubtful. “What if he doesn’t want to be on our side? And how do you know we’ll meet him?”

“He won’t want to be on any other side. He could, I suppose, try to claim neutrality, but my involvement will probably pull him in. Worse comes to worst, it will at least make him curious enough to come talk to me, and I can sort it out then. As for how I know you’ll meet him…” 

I sighed and looked at the ceiling. Then I took another sip of my drink and continued. 

“As you might have guessed, this whole mess,” I gestured around to indicate the prophecy, or the universe, take your pick, “is kind of personal for me, but it’s doubly so for him. He won’t be able to resist at least meeting you.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, but they nodded.

I moved on from that topic. “Finally, you have my name. If you want to talk, just call out. Don’t waste time with a summoning. I don’t have much to spare. But know this: I won’t be able to help every time. There are some things I have to allow to happen without interfering, however much it sucks.” My bitter tone and word choice gave them some surprise. I went on. “I want you to know that I’m sorry, for that.”

My apology only surprised them more. I took the opportunity to make my leave. I tossed back the rest of the whiskey, the glass finally ceasing to refill itself. “Thank you for the whiskey, Ellen.” I gracefully dismounted from the barstool and strode toward the door, calling over my shoulder, “Catch you later, boys.”

I went through the door, using it as a portal to disappear from the bar.


End file.
